For Now

Wrap arms tight around me and hold me till dawn
Let dreams enfold us, but please still hold on
And when you must leave me, go gently and slow
For now just be with me, don’t go

I lie here not weeping, afraid that my tears
Might wash away mem’ries from happier years
I wish I could keep you here by me, and so
For now just be with me, don’t go

Don’t go to the angels who’re calling your name
Don’t go where I never can find you again
Don’t go from this life, it’s not time yet you know
For now just be with me, don’t go
For now just be with me, don’t go

I was going to write about loss and grief, but I can’t seem to get the words out. It’s the anniversary this week of my grandmother’s death, over thirty years ago. That loss still feels fresh. Within the past six years, there have been five other deaths close to me. Six years, five deaths. Four human, one cat (my first pet). I thought I was ready to write about them, but apparently I’m not quite.

This is my third try. I told myself I could do better, craft a better piece. Make it clever or touching or something. It’s not working.

I pulled out this poem that I wrote before the recent deaths. It’s what I should have said, but never did. It will have to do for now.